but to control the thunderstorm we have to use mechanical means.’
Rose smiled.
‘I am going off at a tangent now. There is a substance called wintergreen. It occurs in nature in vegetable form. It can also be built up by man synthetically and chemically in the laboratory.’
‘Well?’
‘My point is that there are often two ways of arriving at the same result. Ours is, admittedly, the synthetic way. There might be another. The extraordinary results arrived at by Indian fakirs for instance, cannot be explained away in any easy fashion. The things we call supernatural are not necessarily supernatural at all. An electric flashlight would be supernatural to a savage. The supernatural is only the natural of which the laws are not yet understood.’
‘You mean?’ I asked, fascinated.
‘That I cannot entirely dismiss the possibility that a human being might be able to tap some vast destructive force and use it to further his or her ends. The means by which this was accomplished might seem to us supernatural—but would not be so in reality.’
I stared at him.
He laughed.
‘It’s a speculation, that’s all,’ he said lightly. ‘Tell me, did you notice a gesture she made when she mentioned the House of the Crystal?’
‘She put her hand to her forehead.’
‘Exactly. And traced a circle there. Very much as a Catholic makes the sign of the cross. Now, I will tell you something rather interesting, Mr Anstruther. The word crystal having occurred so often in my patient’s rambling, I tried an experiment. I borrowed a crystal from someone and produced it unexpectedly one day to test my patient’s reaction to it.’
‘Well?’
‘Well, the result was very curious and suggestive. Her whole body stiffened. She stared at it as though unable to believe her eyes. Then she slid to her knees in front of it, murmured a few words—and fainted.’
‘What were the few words?’
‘Very curious ones. She said: “The Crystal! Then the Faith still lives!”’
‘Extraordinary!’
‘Suggestive, is it not? Now the next curious thing. When she came round from her faint she had forgotten the whole thing. I showed her the crystal and asked her if she knew what it was. She replied that she supposed it was a crystal such as fortune tellers used. I asked her if she had ever seen one before? She replied: “Never, M. le docteur.” But I saw a puzzled look in her eyes. “What troubles you, my sister?” I asked. She replied: “Because it is so strange. I have never seen a crystal before and yet—it seems to me that I know it well. There is something—if only I could remember …” The effort at memory was obviously so distressing to her that I forbade her to think any more. That was two weeks ago. I have purposely been biding my time. Tomorrow, I shall proceed to a further experiment.’
‘With the crystal?’
‘With the crystal. I shall get her to gaze into it. I think the result ought to be interesting.’
‘What do you expect to get hold of?’ I asked curiously.
The words were idle ones but they had an unlooked-for result. Rose stiffened, flushed, and his manner when he spoke changed insensibly. It was more formal, more professional.
‘Light on certain mental disorders imperfectly understood. Sister Marie Angelique is a most interesting study.’
So Rose’s interest was purely professional? I wondered.
‘Do you mind if I come along too?’ I asked.
It may have been my fancy, but I thought he hesitated before he replied. I had a sudden intuition that he did not want me.
‘Certainly. I can see no objection.’
He added: ‘I suppose you’re not going to be down here very long?’
‘Only till the day after tomorrow.’
I fancied that the answer pleased him. His brow cleared and he began talking of some recent experiments carried out on guinea pigs.
I met the doctor by appointment the following afternoon, and we went together to Sister Marie Angelique. Today, the doctor was all geniality. He was anxious, I thought, to efface the impression he had made the day before.
‘You must not take what I said too seriously,’ he observed, laughing. ‘I shouldn’t like you to believe me a dabbler in occult sciences. The worst of me is I have an infernal weakness for making out a case.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, and the more fantastic it is, the better I like it.’
He laughed as a man laughs at an amusing weakness.
When we arrived at the cottage, the district nurse had something she wanted to consult Rose about, so I was left with Sister Marie Angelique.
I saw her scrutinizing me closely. Presently she spoke.
‘The good nurse here, she tells me that you are the brother of the kind lady at the big house where I was brought when I came from Belgium?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘She was very kind to me. She is good.’
She was silent, as though following out some train of thought. Then she said:
‘M. le docteur, he too is a good man?’
I was a little embarrassed.
‘Why, yes. I mean—I think so.’
‘Ah!’ She paused and then said: ‘Certainly he has been very kind to me.’
‘I’m sure he has.’
She looked up at me sharply.
‘Monsieur—you—you who speak to me now—do you believe that I am mad?’
‘Why, my sister, such an idea never—’
She shook her head slowly—interrupting my protest.
‘Am I mad? I do not know—the things I remember—the things I forget …’
She sighed, and at that moment Rose entered the room.
He greeted her cheerily and explained what he wanted her to do.
‘Certain people, you see, have a gift for seeing things in a crystal. I fancy you might have such a gift, my sister.’
She looked distressed.
‘No, no, I cannot do that. To try to read the future—that is sinful.’
Rose was taken aback. It was the nun’s
